It's a new chapter!
Beta'ed by the wonderful WtchCool.
- o – o -
Chapter three: Fallen Leaves
Encountering his father again had been more emotional trauma than Trip had wanted. He'd almost forgotten about the first time he'd met the Cape, and was left wondering how he'd failed to recognize his own father—even with the three month gap, it shouldn't have been too hard. It was probably the tights, the nine-year-old decided as he brewed another pot of coffee.
Trip sighed as he stared at the coffee, willing it to brew faster. His mother, at least, had taken some of his explanations on why he now had insomnia lightly. (Alright, so he was blaming everything on nightmares. That was evil, but necessary. Ruvi would be proud.) She hadn't taken to the coffee thing so well, but whatever. He really needed the caffeine. Especially today.
If there was one thing he hadn't missed after getting emancipated, it was public schooling—or even school in general. At least his mother was only trying to get him enrolled, rather than making him suffer through the boredom of school again for an entire day. (Time travel was worse than jetlag. Who knew?)
The nine-year-old rolled his shoulders back and stretched, wincing as his spine popped. He really needed to figure out what to do about his mattress. It wasn't very good, and his spine hurt. At least the coffee was done.
One thing that he wasn't going to miss was being so damn tall. Being short meant his balancing act to reach the coffee mugs was a lot easier. (He carefully ignored the fact that he could have just grabbed the mugs out of the shelf when he was pushing seven feet.) The first time his mother had caught him playing tree monkey to get the coffee mugs down, she'd nearly had a heart attack.
The back flip dismount from the countertop hadn't exactly endeared the process to his mother much either. That was vaguely disappointing to his twenty-year-old self, who knew that she secretly loved watching him perform. Even if she swore it still scared the bejeezus out of her, anyways.
Trip had poured the coffee and was reading the early edition of the Herald when his mother came into the kitchen. She was dressed to kill, as usual. Trip didn't know where she'd dug all the business suits up from, but he didn't mind in the least. He much preferred her dressing like a lawyer than looking like a mother of four or a soccer mom.
"Morning mom," Trip said, not looking up from his perusal of the Herald's sports section. The Pilots had managed to stomp the Bengals into the dirt over the weekend. The scores made Trip rather sad that he wasn't old enough to bet—the Pilots hadn't made it to the Super Bowl in his original timeline, but they'd made a decent go of it.
"Why are you drinking coffee?" Dana replied as she crossed the kitchen to the fridge. "Never mind, I don't think I want to know. Are eggs alright for breakfast?" Trip nodded and muttered something that might have been a yes. He was still lost in thought and contemplating the bottom of his nearly-empty coffee mug.
Dana shook her head with a sigh. Even if it was just in the little things, Trip was acting more like his father than he probably knew. Vince had been like this on work days, if he were working one of the decent shifts—or not being forced into pulling a double, due to understaffing. Maybe ARK would take care of that; she rather doubted it, though.
Fifteen minutes later, breakfast was on the table and Dana was going over a mental checklist of what she needed to do for the day. There was a job interview she needed to go to (it'd been scheduled a few weeks before Vince's death, but it—like everything else—had been pushed back); Trip needed to be enrolled in a new school, and they were almost out of groceries. Dana checked her cell phone and sighed. They also needed to do a lot more unpacking, especially if she wanted to keep her cell phone from dying.
- o – o -
Trip slouched into the elementary school behind his mother, wondering why he had to wait until he was sixteen to sit for his GED. He'd hated this school, more than was strictly necessary. High school hadn't been much better, but the track coach had at least been good. All those years of running like hell from his classmates in the lower grades had paid off—in more ways than one, actually.
Chandler Elementary was a gloomy, depressing building. It housed kids up to the sixth grade, at which point they were promptly shunted to one of the high schools in the area. There was no way to escape how depressing this building had been—even the little kids' classes, with all the bright colors and construction paper projects, hadn't been able to escape that. (Trip suspected it had something to do with being connected to the Chandler family, but couldn't prove anything.)
The nine-year-old sat on the hard wooden bench outside the principal's office while his mother sat inside, trying to fill out admissions forms. There was quite a bit of paperwork involved, sadly. He vaguely remembered there being a few more questions last time, but this seemed to be shorter. (That, or his level of patience had vastly improved due to vigilante work.) Trip took the time to study what was going on in the hallway he was sitting in.
The graffiti by the fire extinguisher was fresh-looking, and still sounded obscene even though he knew what the words meant now. There had been a half-hearted attempt to get rid of the vibrant pinks and blues, but it had stubbornly clung to the wall. The janitor still had his office at the end of the hallway, and his cart was still smelly and in need of a good scrub.
Trip sighed, stretching. This was going to be so incredibly boring, wasn't it? He was about to start some of his less intensive stretches when a familiar figure walked into the building. Although he hadn't seen the man in years, Kazzie still cut an impressive figure. Whoever said fat men couldn't fight had obviously never met the dockworker who served as Scales'—and, later, Snake Eyes', right-hand man. As to what he was doing here…
Oh no. She wouldn't. Not even Snake Eyes was that crazy… Was she? Trip slouched down in his seat, hoping to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Please, let Kazzie just be here about one of his kids, instead of…
"Trip?"
Trip breathed a sigh of relief as his mother exited the office. She was smiling, and looked as though things were finally going right for once.
"Come on, sweetie," Dana said, holding out her hand. Trip took it without protest, a little of the familiar ache in his heart withering away at the contact. "Let's go get lunch somewhere. I think things are going alright…"
For once.
- o – o -
As soon as Trip got home, he grabbed a cup of coffee and retreated to his room. Lunch out with his mother had been fun—they'd gone to a pizza place Trip knew she'd missed going to in later years. He'd even eaten the nasty anchovies she liked, just to see her smile. (The coffee was going to go a long way to getting rid of the flavor, he knew.)
The former vigilante booted up his computer, almost regretting doing so. He'd downloaded Skype on a whim at some point in the past two days. Unfortunately, he still hadn't figured out how to block incoming calls. Scales' daughter was waiting for him, an evil glimmer in her eyes. That was never a good sign.
Trip sighed. "Hello Elizabeth," he said, turning the volume down a little.
—Don't toy wiv me t'day— Elizabeth growled. It was apparent that she hadn't been having a very good day, as her accent was getting rather thick. Syllables were dropping like flies. —Molinari is one right soddin' bastard, an' damned ifn I'll pu' up wiv 'im f'r ano'er five years.—
It seemed her ire was directed at Tommy "Pokerface" Molinari, thank whatever deity was listening. At least she didn't have a gun this time. (She'd given Molinari quite a bit to think about in the early days of her rule of Palm City's docks. Even Fleming had backed well away during that first year.)
"Should I ask?"
The reply was a string of swear words that would have made Trip blush at a younger (mental) age.
"I guess not," Trip sighed, propping his chin up on his hand. "Are you enrolling in Chandler Elementary?" he asked.
—Yes. Why do you ask?— Elizabeth's smile was angelic, although there was a gleam in her eye that rather gave it away.
"Curiosity," Trip muttered. This was going to be one fun day. He almost missed Liz's next statement, which had him spluttering and spitting coffee all over his desk when it registered.
"What do you mean, the Cape's been sighted?"
It was probably not the best time for his mother to come into his room.
- o – o -
What do you think? Good? Bad? Wondering about two different "first" appearances of the Cape? Drop a line and let me know!